


Terribly Sharp

by YoSafBridge (sMaturin)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anthea/Q - Freeform, BAMF Minion, F/M, Fluff and angst and a little apocalypse but that's later, Happy ending at least in the sense that none of the good guys treat anyone very badly, I care about spelling and grammar, James Bond/Q - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sMaturin/pseuds/YoSafBridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond falls; Q equivocates; the world threatens to end. Moneypenny takes no shit, Anthea takes no shit but doesn't take things very seriously either, and Minion Edgar comes into his own. People are ridiculously competent, and some are even emotionally functional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The little missus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Really? A kink?" Q picked up his drink. "I think calling my preferences a kink is an insult to kinks everywhere, but if you insist..."
> 
> James narrowed his eyes at Q. "So you don't fall for attractive WASPs?"
> 
> "That's pretty much the sum of it. And don't be tedious and take that as a challenge, Bond. Surely your ego isn't so delicate that you need to seduce the one measly coworker who doesn't swoon at your feet."

 

"One moment, please," said Q, picking through the pencils in his drawer. "I find it disappointing that pencil sharpeners are so inconsistent."

"My confidence in you increases every day, quartermaster," said James.

"Ah, yes. Generalizing from a single instance. Quite a sound practice, that." Q handed a pencil to James, and they turned back to the holographic topo map. "Now, where were the entrances when you were on the balcony?"

James took the sharp, if not symmetrical, pencil and used the tip to indicate three places on the map.

Q said, "Just barely break the plane of light, please, Bond. The smaller the position you indicate, the more accurate our calculations will be."

They progressed chronologically through the mission's audio and video feeds, marking the positions of the entrances at each of James' observations.

"And where were you when the power went out? "

James used the pencil to indicate a path on the holographic projection. "I heard the rumble that preceded it when I was halfway between that shack and the gate."

Q spun a holographic scrubber dial until the feeds were all synced to the moment James reached the path. He gestured for the feeds to play.

They heard the rumble from James' external mics, but saw no corresponding disruption in the images. The satellite showed James passing through the gate, and then everything but the satellite footage abruptly stopped.

"Must have been an EMP," said James.

"Encroaching on my territory, 007?" asked Q.

"Just providing a hypothesis based on local intel. Not trying to do your job for you."

Nevertheless, the next morning Q found that his pencils had been sharpened to geometrically perfect points. A recently hired engineer named Edgar knocked uncertainly on his door.

"Hey, boss. I hope it's OK that I followed Bond's suggestion for sharpening your pencils."

"Certainly. Well done. You used the CNC router, did you?"

"Yes. It was a quick job."

Q looked at him. "Anything else?"

"Well, it seemed like a good idea, but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about me doing something initiated by another department without running it by you. In the future, how should I handle it?"

Q worked to keep his smile minimal. "You did well. Keep using your judgment."

"OK," said Edgar, clearly relieved. "Thanks, boss," he said, and left.

*******

"So I hear I have you to thank for the increased symmetry of my holo-pointing devices," said Q to James across the booth. At dinnertime, the bar was quiet enough that he only had to raise his voice slightly.

"I have other ideas that might please you too," James said, holding Q's gaze and resting his hands lightly on those of the younger man.

Q didn't move his hands but said, "You'll make Moneypants uncomfortable."

"I don't think so," scoffed James, lightly drawing his fingers along the back of Q's hands. "It takes more than this to disturb Eve."

"No doubt. But she and my wife are close, and Moneypants will stress about whether she needs to tell my wife that I've got a flirtation at work."

James paused at the news of a wife, then casually pulled one hand away and replied, "And you don't want her to tell your wife."

"No, telling my wife is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant. Really?"

"Really. For about eight separate reasons. My wife is the most secure person on the planet. And she trusts me completely. And she would know right away that you're not my type. And she's as deadly as you and as omniscient as me, so she expects people not to cross her. Do I need to go on?"

"I'm not your type? You're terminally straight?" James removed his other hand and picked up his drink.

Q smiled, a rare full smile. "You are endless fun, James. Of course that's what you would take away from that list."

James said nothing, just continued looking at Q expectantly.

"Fine. I'm not exclusively straight, but I'm usually drawn to people who aren't widely considered attractive."

For once--for once!--James was nonplussed. Q finished his gin and tonic. On cue, Eve appeared with their next round.

"Eve," James said as she distributed their drinks and sat down next to Q, "what does Q's wife look like?"

Eve looked at him curiously, but at Q's nod, she said, "She's tall and curvy. She has dark curly hair. I'd guess that she's of European and African descent."

"Attractive?" asked James.

"Smoking hot. I'd pick Gina Torres to play her in the Q biopic."

James looked accusingly at Q.

Q shrugged. "I'm more flexible outside the realm of blond hair and blue eyes."

Eve's brow cleared. "He found out about your kink!" she said, delighted, to Q.

"Really? A kink?" Q picked up his drink. "I think calling my preferences a kink is an insult to kinks everywhere, but if you insist..."

James narrowed his eyes at Q. "So you don't fall for attractive WASPs?"

"That's pretty much the sum of it. And don't be tedious and take that as a challenge, Bond. Surely your ego isn't so delicate that you need to seduce the one measly coworker who doesn't swoon at your feet."

"Maybe I just don't believe you," said James.

"That's on you."

Q's phone buzzed, and he nudged Eve to let him out. "She's here. I'll be right back."

James watched him leave and said, "His wife's coming here?"

Eve looked at him carefully. "Yes. Disappointed?"

James said nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't meet Anthea on the Skerries mission."

James became still. "Anthea? Anthea who works for the Committee?"

Eve said, "Well, technically I think she works for Mycroft, but yes, that's Q's wife."

"But she's got to be 40!"

"And how old are you?"

James said nothing.

Eve sighed. "Honest to god, James. Have some dignity, won't you?"

"MP! How are you?" said a new voice.

Eve jumped up to hug Anthea. Anthea next turned to James. "Bond," she said, with a smile.

James nodded. "I didn't know you had ties to MI6."

"It didn't come up while we were under fire on the Skerries. But as for Q, perhaps he's ashamed to mention me. Is that it, honey?" Anthea asked Q, who was looking at her proprietarily.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask about that," said Q, as they all sat down. "Has someone," he said, looking at Eve, "been talking with my minions about my wife?" He looked back to Anthea. "Today I was approached by Edgar, who seemed quite fearful. It seemed excessive, and I thought someone might have implied that my ire might result in a lethal, or at least terrifying, action on my behalf."

"Not I," said Eve.

"I think that's my fault," said James.

"I don't think so," said Q. "He was afraid to tell me that you had convinced him to sharpen my pencils with the CNC. It wasn't fear of you. Try not to take it too hard."

"Sounds like it was simply your drill-sergeant ways intimidating the ranks," said Anthea to Q.

"It appears that both of us need better PR in Q division," James said to Anthea.

"Perhaps so," she said cheerfully. "Get on that, dear," she said to Q.

"As you wish, of course," said Q. He held up his glass. "To minions."

"To minions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caught the delightful habit of Calling Eve "moneypants" when I was reading "Slow Dancing In A Burning Room" by feelslikefire. Tip of the hat to you, feelslikefire.
> 
> Comments are love! Brit-picking, con-crit and random thoughts are welcome.


	2. Insidious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James whispered, "Still with me, Q?" Hearing no answer, he slowly crawled, anti-clockwise, into more dark.

"Think of it like a land submarine," said Q to James.

"But it..."

"There isn't time to explain before you leave," said Q. "I'll fill you in during your flight." Turning to M, Q continued, "Sir, shall I kit him up now?"

"Very well. But remember, both of you, that this is only provisionally an infiltration. If there's any indication that we're in over our heads, keep it to observation only."

"Thank you, sir," said Q.

"Yes, sir," said James.

Soon James was on a plane headed for the last sighting of the shifting entrances, with Q's voice in his ear. Or rather, the potential of Q's voice in his ear. Q had summarized the most important points of their current intelligence and explained what he had been able to predict about the movements of the entrances to the land sub, as they had taken to calling it. Then James had flipped through the briefing material and asked Q a few questions. It seemed natural to leave the channel open as James settled in to an in-depth review and Q worked on other projects while keeping an eye on the surveillance of James' destination. Occasionally they exchanged observations, but more often they disturbed each other by expostulating at the work in front of them.

"So do you think it was an EMP?" asked James, finishing his second review of the material.

"Yes. Or near enough. But as long as you keep the parts for the backup coms separate, you'll be able to reconnect with us after a discharge."

"How did you come up with the predictions, anyway?"

"Well, there's a lot of work on predictive models, so I just looked into it a little more."

"You learned a new branch of math?"

"It sounds so impressive when you say it like that. I just paid more attention to something I had glossed over before. There are some choices to be made about implementation, and a bunch of academics with overwrought opinions, but getting through it just involves turning the crank."

"If you say so. I'm just the blue collar gentleman over here."

"I don't think I've seen many bespoke blue collars."

They talked for a few more minutes, and then Q said, "Are you planning to sleep on the flight?"

"Perhaps. Why, do you need a nap? "

"Can't. I'm not one of you Navy types who can sleep like flipping a switch. I'll be awake until the end of the mission." Q hesitated, but continued, "I don't have any specific concerns about your pilots, but I'd feel better if you let me take night watch while you're asleep."

And so they passed the night, James sleeping while Q worked and kept tabs on the James and the plane: video and audio feeds from inside the plane, and data from ACARS and GPS. James' breathing in his ear provided an organic complement to the mechanical hum of computer fans, and the morning found Q fresher than he expected.

***

It had indeed been an EMP. Two very long minutes after it was cut off, James' voice was back. "Q, do you read me?"

"Yes." Moments before, his mind had been filled with all the possible combinations of things that could have gone wrong. At the sound of James' voice, the noise fell away, and only the goal remained. "Sitrep."

"The land sub is still moving. Will the scrambler still work?"

"Yes."

"Approaching the entrance. Your predictions give it 10 seconds before it disappears."

"Snap the scrambler together now."

"Done."

Q watched the timer on his screen.

"It worked. I'm in," said James. "And the door's closing." There was thumping the background. "Damn it. It closed. I'm stuck inside something, the size of a small closet."

"Is there a hatch in the floor?"

"There are three ports on the edge of a hatch under my feet. And the ceiling is starting to compress to the floor."

"How much time?"

"5 seconds."

"Take out the scrambler again. Have the entrances been moving clockwise?"

"Anti."

"Put the scrambler in the top port, and you're going to fall through the hatch."

James inserted it, and all the lights went out. He fell onto a firm but padded surface. He felt around and whispered, "Still with me, Q?"

He heard no answer, and slowly crawled, anti-clockwise, into more dark.

*******

"I should have considered the land sub going deeper than I anticipated. I could have used ultra-low frequency radio signals."

Anthea stroked Q's naked back, but said nothing.

"He made it back. It all worked out," Q said, sounding unconvinced.

"Is he upset about it?" she asked.

"I don't think so. I think he's taking the piss with the 'underground radio' band t-shirt. Where he found it, I have no idea."

"Are you going to wear it?" she asked, a smile in her voice.

*******

When the flu started popping up in the news, it seemed like other outbreaks. People in Mexico City wore bandanas or masks over their mouths, but maybe it was the pollution. No one seemed concerned at the World Food Security conference, where Q was in James' ear, via a newly designed multi-frequency earwig, while James seductively interrogated the congresswoman's wife on the balcony in Greenland.

"Couldn't get her to play for your team, James?" asked Q when James was on his way to the airport with the information but without getting laid.

"Didn't need to, did I?" said James.

*******

Anthea leaned away from her rifle's scope and said, "You're my husband's favorite."

"Well, I am the best," said James. "Don't tell him, but I convinced Edgar that it would be good experience for him to work with 00's, and I've maneuvered most of them into working with him." He set down his binoculars. "Edgar's very good, and he's trying to prove himself, so they don't suffer. As for Q, if I have to bribe him by bringing my gun back in one piece, it's worth it."

"Our lives are so different," reflected Anthea. "If I treated my stuff the way you do..."

"Ah the lonely life of the elite solo operative."

"Not so lonely at the moment, partner. But I have been out of the flu loop. Is there any truth to it causing changes in behavior?"

"Q says scientists are investigating, but he also said it will take weeks, at the very least, before they know anything. And it's reached all continents. Death toll 900."

"It's a bad business."

"Yes. Here comes the target. See you for dinner Sunday. That sushi place?"

"No, I think Q wants to try to new Indian restaurant near Eve's place."

"Good hunting."

"You too, Bond."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love! Brit-picks especially, but whatever reading this makes you think about, I'm interested to hear it. (Apparently my sentence construction rules are more lax in the chapter notes.)
> 
> I tried to give enough information about the land-sub to make it interesting but not so much that it slowed things down. Would you have preferred more or less info about it?


	3. Scaling the wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "James, this is not a field mission. I'm not under your protection."

Some people cancelled their travel plans because of the new virus, but Q and Anthea didn't. After a few days soaking in geothermal hot springs and seeing the aurora borealis by boat in Iceland, they met up with Eve and James for an ice-climbing expedition.

"This is a pleasant surprise," said Anthea to James as he and Eve came into the outfitting company's offices.

"You made it," said Q, happily.

"I'm chopped liver?" said Eve.

"Foie gras, dear Moneypants. We were expecting you," said Q, hugging her.

"I just had to see Q as an outdoorsman for myself," said James.

Once their guide noticed that Eve and James slept separately in spite of their perpetual flirtation, he became notably friendlier toward James. He persisted even after running into several of James' tactful verbal roadblocks. Finally Anthea took him aside, and he reverted to the relaxed, pleasant guy he had been before.

"What did you say?" asked James.

She affected a confiding tone. "Our friend James is deeply closeted. You're just his type, but I can tell that your attentions make him uncomfortable, even though he plays it off. I think the kindest thing you can do for him is just let him admire you from afar."

"You are devilishly clever," said James with a broad grin. "Can I call on your in the future?"

"At your service."

***

Anthea was the most accomplished climber, and Q the least, so they climbed a range of routes. James found that he was more protective of Q than Anthea was.

When Q was setting up for the hardest route he had tried, James hovered over him.

"James, I appreciate your concern, really, but it's distracting. I'm on belay. There's a limit to the things that can go wrong, and you've double-checked those things already."

James continued to re-check the equipment.

"This is not a field mission. I'm not under your protection," said Q, sharply.

A pained look ghosted over James' face, but he only said, "I can't help myself, I guess," and started to set up another route. Peripherally, Q noticed that James was choosing narrower handholds and longer reaches than was usual for him. Months ago, while he was remotely following James through an especially loathsome mission, Q had half-seriously determined the parameters of the relationship between James' dangerous decisions and his emotional discomfort. Q found the formula applied here on the glacier too.

Around the fire that night, Q waited until the others had turned in. "James, I'm the only one of us who isn't field qualified. I'm not just the least skilled but the least fit. I get kind of sensitive about it. I'm sorry if I was harsh today."

"No, you're right. You're not under my protection," said James, moving to get up.

Q touched James' arm and said, "Please, hear me out."

James sat back with a wary expression.

"I like it when you look out for me. I know you ran interference with 006 when he was mad at me. I saw you get rid of that creep in the bar. I'm sure there have been other times I don't know about. I really do appreciate you, and I don't want you to think otherwise."

They sat in silence for a while.

"This is new to me," said James.

"What's that?"

"Letting people have expectations of me. Trying to pay attention to someone and see what they need when it's not a crisis. Sticking around."

"Well," said Q eventually, "Thanks."

*******

The strain of influenza turned out to be H8N2, a highly pathogenic avian virus prevalent in greebs.

"Greebs?" James asked Q from the helicopter, holding his hands to the massive sound-reduction headphones. They had developed the habit of staying on coms nearly continually when James was in the field, but Q had waited until after the mission to share this piece of news.

"How much do those banknote designers drink, James? Yes, greebs. Fresh water diving birds in the order podicipediformes. So, are you planning a return trip to the lovely Spitbank Fort for yourself?"

"Not my style. There's no life on it. It's just a piece of concrete sticking up out of the ocean. There are only 9 guest rooms. Apparently it used to be stone, which looked a lot better. Anyway, the heliport isn't completely sturdy anymore."

"I sense your hand in that. Well, if you're not going to swan away in your tower, Rapunzel, I'll see you once you're through medical."

"You'll see me before that."

"No, we're observing the level one containment procedures now. Enjoy the wait."

*******

Studies confirmed that people who were sick with H8N2 took more risks. Further studies were needed to determine whether these were a direct result of the infection or simply due to increased anxiety of having a potentially lethal disease. The death toll reached 1700.

MI-6 began observing level two containment procedures.

James moved more guns to his apartment and took Q to the shooting range.

Q developed a powered particulate respirator that didn't restrict airflow in his running agents. He built it with a particular 5' 11" male with a 45" chest and an oxygen consumption rate of 7 liters per minute in mind. It worked for everyone else too.

Q started habitually eating dinner with Eve and James on Sundays, and Anthea was usually there.

***

The death toll was 8000, and 600,000 people were believed to be infected. People who were sick with H8N2 were in more car accidents than people sick with other flus, or even cancer. The virus caused reduced intelligence.

Anthea installed wrought iron window grills. Even on the second floor.

The work of infected MI6 employees, who all worked from home, was subject to review.

Eve collected comprehensive information about Spitbank Fort.

James took more and more risks in the field.

The four friends had dinner at Q and Anthea's place every Sunday they could, and Anthea was there every time.

***

The death toll doubled, and the number of infected people increased by a factor of 10.

Diagnoses of mental illness were rising in people who tested positive for the virus but showed no other signs of the disease. The severity of behavior changes increased with the duration of infection. In all government branches, security clearances were revoked for anyone infected. Street crime was rampant.

MI6 made a list of employees who would be asked to remain on site in the event of martial law.

Eve and James ate at Anthea and Q's twice a week.

Late one night, Anthea and Q lay in bed staring at the ceiling, only hands touching.

"We have to stay together," said Q.

"Yes," said Anthea.

"MI6 is important. Mycroft is important."

"Yes."

"They need us."

"Yes."

"More of my job can be done remotely than yours."

"Perhaps. But only while there is infrastructure for remote work."

"Staying together is more important to me than MI6 or Mycroft. I can't imagine being apart if everything comes down. I need to know where you are and to be able to help you."

At any other time, Anthea would have pointed out her ability to take care of herself. But feeling the same way he did, she only said, "We can try to get Mycroft to hole up with MI6, but I think it's unlikely. If he does not, we can go with Mycroft or we can go to MI6. I can't think of a good way to decide which."

"I can't pick either. For now, let's just say that this is week 0, and we'll go to MI6 if lockdown comes during an even week and with Mycroft is it happens during an odd week."

"That's a good plan. Thank you, my love," said Anthea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brit-crit, con-crit, xoxoxo. I added a cover to Chapter 1, if you haven't seen it yet. 
> 
> Would you pick MI6 or Mycroft?


	4. Everything here is mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know you, I love you, and I will taser you."

The US CDC released a test that was intended to measure changes in risk aversion as the virus spread. The first results were supposed to be the baseline, but an enterprising undergraduate devised a way to compare them to the results of similar tests from previous years. She concluded that the world's populace was already profoundly affected. Uninfected people were extremely risk-averse, and infected people were increasingly risk-prone.

Eve started buying cigarettes. She never smoked, but survivalists said they were good currency. James came home with her, and they spent hours on her balcony looking the lights of the city.

"I'm an ass, Eve."

"How so?" she asked, lightly.

"You are a gem, and I act like you're not. You are a good friend."

"Yes, James, you are an ass, but not for those reasons."

He looked at her, confused and hurt.

"You're feeling sorry for yourself," she continued. "I'm very fond of you, but this is self-pity disguised as kindness, nothing more. I'm sorry you're in love, I really am, and I have no idea what to tell you, but you are treading water, and it can't go on."

Several minutes later, James gathered himself. "Thanks, Eve."

She stood to hug him good-bye. "That's Moneypants to you, fella," she said, sadly.

When he got to Q-branch, Q looked at his wretched face with concern and led him into his private office. "Do you want some water?"

James shook his head and sat down sideways on the couch. Q automatically sat down facing him, and James took his hands.

"I don't want to be friends," James said.

Q closed his eyes, his face still. James leaned forward and kissed him. Q startled a little in surprise.

"Fuck," said James. "That's not what I intended to do. Q, I'm a wreck. I am ruined by what I feel for you."

They looked at each other. James saw affection, concern, and respect on Q's face, as he had known he would. Not desire.

"Stay right there," Q said, and James looked at him mutinously.

"Damn you for knowing that I need to leave," said James.

Q moved to the chair between James and the door. James flinched as Q brushed by him. "I swear to you, James, I will abuse your trust and do whatever it takes to make you not walk out that door."

James looked away.

Q continued, "I know that you want to go express your frustration by slaying some dragons. Maybe I don't love you like you want me to, but I do love you, James. I know you, I love you, and I will taser you before I let you go out there and get yourself infected or do some other stupid thing."

After convincing himself that James was still firmly on the sofa, Q pulled out his phone from his pocket, sent a couple messages, and said, "You're staying here with me tonight. Edgar will get us some food."

"I can't. I can't stay here."

"Yes, you can. Do push-ups if you need to."

"Look away."

Q turned his chair toward the door and listened as James removed his jacket. His shirt rustled as he did push-ups. Gradually the pace slowed. After 5 minutes, he was breathing hard.

"I am your best friend, James, and you are mine," said Q, slowly. James let himself down onto the floor. "I may be the worst person to comfort you right now, but I'm also the most motivated, because I can't bear to lose you." Q turned to look at James. "I know that you are hurt right now because of me, and it flays me. Let me help you. I know you better than anyone. Help me figure out how to make things OK between us."

James got up and sat back on the couch. "It's been like this since the pencils," he said. "I had the idea about sharpening them, and then I just knew."

Q looked at the floor. "You are a tremendous person. I love how courageous and kind and impossibly handsome you are. But my feelings don't enter into the realm of the sexual. Being sexual with you is not in my world. It's not even something I can evaluate because I am in love with Anthea, and because that's how I am made. I am a one-person man. "

"That's what I thought. And I must be the world's lowest asshole to bring it up, because I don't want to make you unhappy. I don't want to make Anthea unhappy either."

"I know. And Anthea does too."

"Oh, god. Anthea knows."

"There's no keeping anything from her. She probably even knows we're having this conversation right now. I just assume I'm completely transparent to her, like most people are. I tell her things anyway, on principle, but her intuition is better than most people's most firmly held beliefs."

Turbulence rose on James' face again. Q pulled his chair closer. He took James' hands. "Steady."

James's face turned to the floor. Moving closer, Q interlocked their knees and rested James' forehead on his shoulder. He covered James' hands with one of his, while his other held James' head to his shoulder, and stroked his hair.

"I haven't had sex since the pencils," said James. "I haven't wanted to have sex with anyone but you. This isn't a whim. I'm not trying to seduce the only coworker who doesn't fall at my feet, or whatever you said."

Q cringed. "I'm sorry."

They were silent for a while. Drops fell on Q's pants.

"You couldn't have known," said James. "If you wrote a computer program that made predictions based on the majority of my past behavior, it would have said the same thing." And then, "You have taken over my goddamn life. It's unrecognizable."

"Do you regret it?" Q asked carefully.

"No."

Time passed, and something lifted. Q got the food that Edgar had left outside the door for them and laid it out on his coffee table.

"Too soon to poke you in the leg with a plastic fork?" Q asked.

James simply looked at him.

"James, have you ever been rejected before?" Q asked tentatively. "I'm not trying to downplay the intensity of your feelings," he added hurriedly. "It's just that professionally, you are trained to keep trying until you've achieved your objective. It's been a very successful strategy for you generally, but it won't be here. I need you to accept that I'm saying no."

Q paused, then said, "Here's something I've learned: guys want to fix things. When something goes widdershins, the thing that makes us feel better is to take action. It turns out there are other approaches."

"So you big dumb love me, right?" The words were flippant, but Q's tone was earnest, and in his gaze James saw as much trust and affection as ever, and a little trepidation. James continued to meet his eyes, and Q went on, "I know you'd protect me, to the end of the world and back. And in that, I will match you stride for stride. I feel the same about you." At the quirk in James' mouth, Q took James' head in his hands and turned it to him. He whispered fiercely, "Do not fucking doubt me, James Bond. The world has to get past me to get to you. You know that."

James closed his eyes, opened them, and gave a small nod.

"Right now," Q continued, "I need your protection. I need you to make sure I don't lose my closest friend. If you're angry and wild enough to go rogue right now, if you won't hold back for yourself, then hold back because you don't want to hurt me. You are a being of passion and drive, and right now there's a subtler task at hand, one that might be harder for you than physically risking your life. But I bet, in fact I'm sure, that if Anthea was about to do something stupid, you would stop her, if only because the loss would break me. You would stop her so I didn't get hurt. Same for Eve. I need you to stop you, because losing you would break me. I need you. Do you understand?"

Eventually, James nodded. "You're a selfish fucker, aren't you?" he said huskily.

"Yes. I am. If you insist, eventually I will give you space. But I will only ever let you go to someone who deserves you and can give you more than I can. For now, I need you to be mine, even though I can't give you all that you want."

Later Q pulled out some blankets, putting one on the couch and one on the floor.

"I'll take the floor," said James.

"Not on your life."

"The couch isn't that comfortable for me. It's not long enough."

"It's more comfortable than the floor though. Let me," said Q, settling on the blanket on the floor by James' knees, "Let me at least offer you that."

*******

In the morning, they eased out of their uncomfortable positions until they were both sprawled on the couch.

"I'm not sure you understand how attached I am to you," said Q.

"I got the limpet picture, yesterday."

"As unflattering as that is, it may be accurate, possibly even an understatement. After the communication failure when you were in the land sub, I really struggled. I felt like I had failed you."

"You wouldn't have felt that way if it were another 00?"

"If it had been another agent, I would have approached the issue more rationally, trying to solve it. With you, it was an emotional issue. On the one hand, you feel like a brother to me, someone who is deeply part of me. It means I can't separate myself from you emotionally, and I don't think there is anything you can do that would make me separate from you. Even when we're not together, I feel you within me. On the other hand, I also feel desperate for you in a way that isn't like a sibling. I want your attention and time. And I'm devastated when I fail you."

"I don't think that's normal."

"Love isn't a simple thing."

He thought it was a kindness not to act on what was in his heart, not to take James in his arms, to touch his face and hold him until he believed in his mind and body that Q loved him profoundly.

So when James mustered some smugness and said, "But you do think I'm handsome then?", Q only said, "Don't push it, Bond," and handed him a crumpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Everything here is mine" (the chapter title) is stuck in my brain as Nicole Hollander's interpretation of what "Meow" means. Apparently, Q has some cat-like characteristics.
> 
> This was a hard chapter to write. Were there places it seemed awkward (the writing, not James)? Brit-crit and con-crit delight me.


	5. Purged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come with me, home wrecker, and I'll buy you some popcorn

At dinner a few days later, Anthea told them martial law was imminent. Mycroft wasn't going to hole up with MI6. Given James' mental state, Q and Anthea agreed they had to stay with MI6.

"That's a hard place to be," said Anthea in bed that night, referring to James.

"I feel like shit," said Q.

"You can't hide your candle under a bushel, my love."

"The bible, Anthea? That's low."

"I'm a low woman. And I'm glad you're mine, in spite of all the pains of the world."

"I'm glad I'm yours."

*******

After martial law was declared a dew days later, Anthea and Q camped in Q's office, often with Eve and James. Intelligence was harder to get than ever, and gathering intelligence seemed to have become the sole function of the agency. There were no more active missions, which James hungered for. Food supplies and medical services were the purview of the uniformed services, decimated as they were. International transportation was at a standstill. It was estimated that only 10% of the world's population was uninfected, and the population was decreasing due to the antisocial behaviors prevalent among the affected. Q's projections showed that the virus might not die out before the population was too isolated to be further reduced it, in which case it would persist indefinitely.

But finally there was a vaccine. And some hope of a treatment that could reduce the viral load, which in early informal tests seemed to resolve the behavioral changes. They had bracelets that indicated their status and performed a daily update on infection status: red for infected, green for uninfected, black for a failed test.

Anthea got the vaccine first. Mycroft sent a homing pigeon.

"He has a pigeon trained to know MI6 as home?" asked Q.

"He has many pigeons. I trained this one. He says that he didn't send any vaccine for you, assuming you'd get it through MI6, but to let him know if you need it." Microwave towers had kept wireless communication feasible.

"You have multiple pigeons that know MI6 as home?"

"Yes. Contingency planning, my love."

"You're a marvel."

James knocked and came in.

"What news?" asked Anthea.

"Black as hell, as dark as night," said James.

Anthea and Q both looked surprised and a bit put off.

"Well, what did you expect?" James asked. "The world is ending."

"Are you referring to the Dark Lady?" asked Q.

"Who? No. Why?"

"Well, 'Black as hell, as dark as night' comes from a Shakespeare sonnet and refers to a hated scornful lover the poet still burns for," Anthea said.

"Bloody hell," said James, grimacing.

"Pretty much. Come with me, home wrecker, and I'll buy you some popcorn." With that, Anthea led James back out of the room to search for the vile pink popcorn candy someone had unearthed.

"Best wife ever," said Q to himself.

***

The British government fell. Only two remained: the Vatican and San Francisco. Food and water at MI6 were running low.

The four friends held a war council. Eve suggested Spitbank Fort.

"I'm sure there are people there. And maybe the virus," said Q.

"How good is the vaccine?" Eve asked Anthea.

"So far, 100%."

"So once we're vaccinated and we know for certain that the vaccine works, the presence of the virus will be moot."

"Yes," Anthea confirmed.

They took it to M, who exploded their idea.

"The Isle of Wight?" asked James.

"Yes, I was just about to bring it to you. The remaining British infrastructure is going to ground. We think success is more likely if we rebuild at multiple sites. I've staked out the Isle of Wight for MI6. I'd like you four to lead."

"Me, sir?" asked Anthea.

"If you will accept the role. I hardly need to tell you these are not ordinary times. I understand you will have other responsibilities, but Mycroft seems relatively happy with your placement."

"I accept. Thank you."

"Where do we start?" asked James.

"Spitbank Fort, just like you planned," said M.

Later in Q's office, Eve said to Q, "I bet you're disappointed. You wanted to shake off your responsibilities and set yourself up like Mr. Universe, didn't you? "

Q's eyes cut to Anthea, "How about it, love-bot? Now that you're a fancy MI6 asset, are still willing to subjugate yourself to me?"

"When have I ever subjugated myself to you, husband?"


	6. Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can they drug you more often? I love this you."

It happened when they were climbing Spitbank Fort. Q and Eve were waiting near the fort's ocean entry, and they had a clear view of James and Anthea's climb. The climbers had traded leads, and eventually James reached the top. After quickly scouting the area, he turned back to Anthea just as she was transferring her weight. The anchor James had placed came out of the stone, and suddenly all of Anthea's weight was on the rope through James' harness. They both froze for a moment, Anthea swinging under the lip of the overhanging fort wall. James was clearly straining, but he made an adjustment, and Anthea climbed up the rope and over the lip like a snake.

"Sitrep," Q said quietly into the coms, his heart booming in his ears.

"James' left forearm needs attention. Three minutes," said Anthea, panting.

"Understood," said Q.

They took the fort with little resistance. There was nothing the surveillance hadn't prepared them for, and the Norwegian white supremacists were easily overcome. Tanner's crew processed the remaining maintenance staff. Eve was on overdrive, working to reactivate the fort's defenses, but Anthea and Q stuck to James. Medical had come in with Tanner, and Q talked quietly to James as Anthea watched them pack and dress the mutilated flesh. The physician's face had gone ashen when she saw the wound, but there had been no hesitation in her actions. When she was done, she said, "It won't look the same, but I think you'll retain full function if we can prevent scarring from decreasing the range of motion. Rest it for 3 days and then come see me. It's going to need a lot of attention."

"He'll be here," said Anthea.

James cocked his eyebrow at her.

"When someone saves your life, you own them," said Anthea.

"You would hardly have died. And don't you mean that you owe me, rather than own me?" asked James.

"I would have hit one of the boats and broken my back or neck. And in this case owing you means I'm responsible for you, which means doing whatever it takes to make sure this injury heals as well as possible. I'm pretty sure it's going to take owning you.

James looked at Q. "Did you get this possessiveness thing from her, or vice versa?"

"Don't even try that," said Q. "Your sense of responsibility is as overdeveloped as either of ours."

Anthea was good to her word, and James became a regular visitor to the doctor and a physical therapist who was cross training as a nurse. Anthea watched like a hawk while James did his exercises, and she made comments to the doctor like, "His wrist flexion has increased at the expense of circumduction. Do you think it would be a good idea to reduce the number of reps for the pronation exercise?"

James found himself bemused rather than irritated by her intrusion.

"She isn't like that with you," observed James to Q one day after he had visited the doctor with Anthea. The doctor had given him a hefty dose of pain medication for a debridement, and James was still somewhat loopy. Anthea had left him in Q's care in the room they all shared since space was still tight. James was lying under a blanket on the couch with his legs resting on Q's lap.

Q looked up from his laptop. "She has her moments. But yes, it's easier for both of us if we leave our 'mission control' mentality in the office, as it were. Still, sometimes it's unavoidable, both with each other and with our friends," he said, tweaking James' foot affectionately.

"The difference between us," Q continued, "is that she's incredible at it, and people are invariably happy that she's doing it. I'm ok at it, but not exceptional."

"I thought you did it pretty well when I told you... when you stopped me..."

Q put his hand back on James' foot. "I'm glad you feel that way. There's no doubt that I can be a tenacious fucker when it's called for, but I don't think you were exactly happy about that at the time."

"I'm happy now that you didn't let me go."

"Can they drug you more often? I love this you."

"You say that now, but you still won't take me to bed," said James sleepily, his eyes on Q's face. "How did you and Anthea become so good together?"

"Compatibility and lots of dumb luck. A fair amount of tears."

"I think you are the best couple I know. I don't know if..." Suddenly he pulled himself upright and Q had to grab his laptop to keep it from falling. "Do I make you sad?" James asked Q.

"Why do you ask that?"

"The expression you just had on your face."

Q looked at him without speaking. Finally, he said, "James, I am the luckiest man I know, twice over. I have an incredible marriage and an incredible best friend. And yes, when you are generous enough to say Anthea and I are the best couple you know, I have some sadness that my marriage has a downside for you and that I am not able to give you everything you could want. I would be a heel if I didn't, don't you think?"

He could see James processing this and jumped in to interrupt where it was going. "Don't take this on yourself, James. Life is complex, and the happiness you give me is profound. I want to know how you really feel, and if that sometimes makes me sad, that's a price worth paying."

James lay back down and reached out for Q's hand. "You say my name a lot, you know that?"

Q smiled. "I guess I do."

"How come I learn all this stuff from you and not Anthea?"

"You're right that she's better at it than I am, but it comes up with me and not with her."

"Oh, right."

Once again Q wanted to curl up with James and hold him. And once again he decided it would be selfish, but that didn't stop him from holding James' hand until James was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there places where things aren't explained enough? I'm aiming for minimalistic but not confusing.


	7. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd hit that."  
> "The only hitting that's going to happen is me hitting the gym because I won't work up a sweat ruining your life."

MI6 finally controlled all of the Isle of Wight. M split his time between the Isle of Wight and an "undisclosed location" that was the new government's main base. Anthea, Q and James relocated to Yarmouth Castle with a large crew.

To Anthea, the accident had promoted James from something like a favored brother-in-law to a brother of her own, and Q often found them together. But on the cold day that Q saw them walking around the point, something was obviously wrong. As he drew closer, he could see that James was supporting Anthea, who was wearing his dry sweater and her own dripping wet pants.

"What happened?" Q asked, hurrying to Anthea's other side.

"She was in the water. She needs a shower, warm blankets and warm bodies. It's not hypothermia yet," said James.

She became slightly more alert in the tepid shower, and they pulled off her clothes. Q washed her and they dried her together. After so many months of close quarters, they had lost the little modesty they started with. 

"Honey, why were you in the water?" asked Q.

She gestured at James, and he said, "Someone shot Mycroft, and it knocked him off the boat into the water. She went to help."

"Is he alive?"

"I hope so. They got him back on the boat, and there was a lot of activity around him."

James helped Anthea shuffle to the bed where Q was pulling the sheets back. They took of their off their shoes and trousers and joined her, spooning her under the pile of blankets.

"Why didn't Anthea go with Mycroft and the boat?" Q asked James.

"She probably didn't want to leave you. That's why I stayed out of the water. We couldn't have made it back without one of us being dry."

Anthea nodded.

"Do you want me to close the door?" asked James.

"It might save Edgar some trouble," said Q.

Anthea snorted softly.

"How's that?" asked James.

"I was down in the tunnels the other day, and I heard Edgar giving somebody hell from pretty far away. 'You're only alive because of them. The only hitting that's going to happen is me hitting the gym because I won't work up a sweat ruining your life. And don't make the mistake of thinking there's anyone here less loyal to them than I am.' When I reached him, he had one of the Navy's explosives experts backed into a corner. The guy must have been twice his size. Apparently the guy had called us the 'queer troika' with the caveat that he'd 'hit that' in reference to Anthea.'

Anthea coughed.

"Edgar's come a long way," said James. "What did you do?"

"I asked him if everything was under control. He said yes, and I left them alone. Later he told me he had the guy transferred to Brownsea," Q said.

"Good man."

"Damn right."

They slept the night through, and woke to Anthea's radio chirping. She crawled over James to get it.

"Go ahead," she said.

"Kip is 3 by 5. Forecast is 5 by 5 by Friday."

"Acknowledged." She put down the handset and smiled. "Mycroft's OK."

***

Q was put in charge of producing the horribly finicky anti-viral medication. James and Anthea started conducting missions on mainland Britain. Eve finally left Spitbank to join them on the Isle of Wight, and a certain female doctor was transferred at the same time. The four friends (and Eve's new squeeze) ate together as often as possible.

***

Technology was coming back online to the extent that counterfeit infection-status bracelets started appearing. Q made a bracelet verifier. The vaccine was widely available. For those who had already been infected, production of the antiviral medication was steadily increasing and was now available for 1/10th of Brits who needed it.

James came back from a mission with some exquisite wine. They took it camping on an emerald field overlooking the ocean and watched a meteor shower. Eve teased James about a lovelorn acquaintance on Spitbank.

"I'd be surprised if she actually missed me that much," said James mellowly.

"Yeah, well, I think she was surprised by it too," Eve said.

Only Q caught the tension that crossed James' face. 


	8. Allow me this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hadn't been easy. It still wasn't easy. But life went on, and civilization was lurching back into gear.

Years later, Q came across archived security footage showing Edgar threatening yet another much larger man in a remote hallway. He rewound it until he saw Edgar shove the man into frame.

"What is your fucking problem, man?" the man howled as Edgar pushed him against the wall, maintaining his wristlock.

"You will speak respectfully, or you will find that you cannot speak at all."

"Are you kidding me? The 00s are all crazy. That's not disrespectful; it's the truth."

"Listen to me. Bond did not kill Anthea. He brought her body back himself. He fucking rowed it across the Solent. You don't know what you're talking about."

"None of that proves he didn't kill her. They're 00's, aren't they? Lies on top of deception. License to kill."

On some level, Q was impressed with the jackass for continuing to argue.

Apparently Edgar was too, because he gave the man a little slack. The man whipped around to elbow Edgar in the windpipe, but Edgar swept the man's feet from under him. In a moment, the man was on his stomach, gagged, and his hands and feet were bound with zip ties.

"I find it satisfying that zip ties are inconspicuous in a geek's tool kit," mused Edgar with his foot on the man's neck. "But back to my point. Have you seen the scars on Bond's forearm?"

Edgar lifted his foot a little, and the man nodded. Most people had seen the ugly scars that ridged James' arm. He didn't make an effort to hide them.

"He got those when he was keeping her from falling to her death. He anchored the rope by wrapping it around his arm. There aren't a handful of people alive who could withstand the pain of their flesh being ripped apart without letting go. I couldn't do it. You sure as hell couldn't. No one goes through that that for someone they don't want alive, much less for someone they're trying to kill.

"In truth, I don't care if you believe it or not. I'll make sure you're on your way to the Falklands before I sleep tonight. But even there, you'll get your ass handed to your on a regular basis if you disrespect my people. I've given you the information you need to understand you were wrong. It's your choice now."

Q looked away from the recording. He still thought about Anthea's last return every day. Eve had commandeered a horse so she could travel ahead with the news. She had found Q at the well, talking with the pump foreman. He could summon that moment with perfect clarity, and it often came without summoning. Eve had held him in her long wool cloak that smelled of horse, a smell that he had once found pleasing, but now it choked him.

He cringed away from the most shameful memory, but then prodded it like a bruise, the way he always did. He had thrown himself at James that night, in his and Anthea's own bed. In grief, rage and abandon, he had thrown himself at the man who had sacrificed so much for him and for Anthea, the man who had exhibited iron self-control. It was beyond disrespect; it was a betrayal of both Anthea and James. James had not responded in kind, had held Q, and had said "You don't really want this," and later, "You don't really want this right now."

Before and after the funeral, James held Q together. It was James who kept him from imploding, from scorching the earth in revenge. The killer and the organization behind him were gone, mostly dead even as Anthea breathed her last. It wasn't even a worthy death for her, but a lucky shot by a talentless hack working for an idiot.

Mycroft came. He and Q sat overlooking the ocean and saying nothing. Mycroft gave Q a sealed envelope. They shook hands when Mycroft left, still without a word.

On the sixth day Q looked down at the letter and thought of the beautiful floating funeral pyre and of their daily peril. He found James late that night and brought him to the room he had shared with Anthea. Seating himself on the sofa, Q said, "Anthea was frustrated with me."

James sat down next to him. "Why?" he asked.

"She thought I wasn't trying hard enough. She thought I could be your lover. She didn't understand why I couldn't be open to being in two relationships, especially when survival was so precarious."

James looked stunned.

"Mycroft gave me a letter she had written in case she died. She told me to remember what she wanted for me and to act on it as soon as I could. She also told me to tell you that you have her permission and blessing.

"James," Q said, sliding down to sit on his heels near James' feet, "I am a wreck, swamped by loss, and still cringing from how I acted the other night. But I want to offer you whatever friendship and love you will accept from me, in all the forms I have to give. Will you allow me this?"

James leaned over. "I have been yours," he said and kissed the top of Q's head. "I am entirely yours,"--kissing his cheekbone--"and I am always yours." With this, he touched his lips lightly to Q's and then pressed their foreheads together. "I allow you anything."

It hadn't been easy. It still wasn't easy. But life went on, and civilization was lurching back into gear.

Q heard Edgar approaching. Just the man I need to talk to, thought Q.


End file.
